


Jump in the Line (Rock Your Body in Time)

by pickledragon



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Almost Crack But Not Quite, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, but come on man it's high school, excessive usage of band-specific terms that no one cares about but me, kids be wild, rated teen for remus, you can't tell me these guys wouldnt be the most chaotic band ever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-05-31 09:16:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19423003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickledragon/pseuds/pickledragon
Summary: Roman, Virgil, and Patton are all members of their high school marching band, with a famous 20 year losing streak. Will a mysterious newcomer change that, or only make the season worse?AKA the marching band AU no one asked for, but you're all getting.





	1. Chapter 1

The attendees of the small high school filtered in through the band room doors, chattering excitedly. They all carried instruments high, and lunch sacks higher. It was marching band season, and the band was ready to play their hearts out. After lunch, of course. 

A small group separated itself and made its way over to the lowest tier of steps. 

"Ugh. Just look at him. Standing there every day." Roman groused as he ate his sandwich next to Patton. It had only been a week, and he had almost had it with the new kid. He was a pianist in the pit, and the worst kind—actually competent. 

"We all 'stand there, every day.'" Virgil said as he sat down, his instrument unwisely sharing a hand with his thermos. The room was filled with noisy chatter after a long half-day on the marching field. 

Roman ignored the comment. "If Logan doesn't learn to actually play his music in the next two weeks, we're all done for!" Patton and Virgil exchanged a glance as their tablemate face-planted into the stand he was using as a table. 

"Princey." Virgil rolled his eyes. "He's not going to get the solo. We all know that's what you're _really_ worried about. 

"But he's a prodigyyyy," He sighed into the table. 

"But you've been here longer." Virgil responded patiently. He tucked his clarinet underneath his chair. "It's going to take at least one more marching season for him to get that kind of clout. You're the best flute we have. 

Roman's eyes emerged from his mop of hair. "Really?"

"Really!" Patton assured him. "Logan's a good player, but no one here has worked as hard as you!" Satisfied, Roman returned to eating his lunch. Inside, Patton chuckled to himself. This year's marching show had brought out the competition in everyone!

"For real you guys," their band aid, Joan, remarked as they slid beside them, "It's the first week and this show is already going to be a disaster. Who on earth had the bright idea to march 'Into The Woods?!'"

"Well, if you cared so much about the show theme, you shouldn't have graduated then! No voting rights for college freshmen."

They held a hand to their heart in mock offense. "I'm injured, Roman. I led you through at least three of our worst seasons singlehandedly!"

"Now Joan," Patton interjected, "41st place is not the worst season we've ever had."

"When it's out of 50 it is." A voice piped up from a row above them. A grimace appeared on Roman's face.

Virgil smirked as Patton started waving rapidly. "Oh! Logan! Come sit over here!" Logan's eyes skimmed over the step's inhabitants. As he met Roman's eyes, the flute player took a long drink of water in derision. 

Logan sighed. "I suppose I will." He sat down next to Virgil. "Now, back to the marching show. To be frank, this school has consistently under-performed given it's size and..." He looked pointedly at the trumpet section on the far side of the band room, cloistered around a game of Cards Against Humanity. Deceit winked at him, waving a particularly salacious card in the air. "...Perceived skill," he finished. "Though the high woodwinds do show some promise," Logan admitted, gesturing to Roman and Virgil (who gave a thumbs up), "And the _single_ drum major is trying his best." Said drum major (a pit guitarist named Thomas) was currently sobbing into the shoulder of Terrance, a tenor saxophone.

"In summary, the only good section here is the low brass." Patton held out a hand to Logan, who halfheartedly slapped it. 

"But?!" Roman spluttered, "Patton, you're a sousaphone! You only play whole notes!" Patton winked, then looked slightly contrite.

Logan continued on. "This band is going to need a serious turn-around if we're going to win State."

Roman stared at Logan, mouth agape. "Win state—" he muttered to himself, incredulously. 

"Maybe it'll be better once we finalize the solo?" Patton suggested. 

"Yes of course!" Roman latched onto the suggestion like a dying man. "The right player can turn a whole show around!"

Virgil grinned slyly. "Are you planning on trying out for it, Logan?" Patton made an abortive gesture with his hands, but before he could say anything, Logan responded. 

"I was not planning on it, Virgil, but it seems needs must." He picked up his lunch sack and walked away to the trash can. At Roman's shocked expression, Joan and Virgil burst into laughter, Patton joining in despite himself. 

Roman threw his sandwich bag at their heads.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the gap in-between updates! just started up uni, and the transition's a lil rough, but i'm hoping to get back to my one fic update a month schedule!

“Set!” the director shouted, a grin spreading across his face. “Look left, look right, be more aware of your spacing! Now think of one thing you can improve and let’s go again!

“Reset!”

“Starting line!” Roman and the others yelled back as they dashed across the field to the first set they’d learned that week. On the way, Roman dodged a piccolo named Talyn, only to run straight into a dip in the grass field. He barely avoided a well-timed outstretched leg from Remus, who waved his mellophone cheerily Roman’s direction in lieu of an apology. 

It was the third day of learning drill, and things were already halfway to hell. Director Picani meant well, but this year his fast and loose teaching style didn't gel with some of the... stricter members of the band. And when the group wasn't cohesive, the whole show fell apart. 

Roman was shocked out of his thoughts by the loud beating of the metronome. He brought his flute to his lips and began to play the first part of “Into the Woods’” “Prologue”.

\-----

“And close!” the band shouted in unison. “Check! Adjust! Relax!” Roman let out a sigh of relief. They had just staggered somewhat successfully through their first movement.

“Roman,” said a voice from behind him, “You’ve landed at least a quarter step off your spot for the past three runs. That should be remedied as soon as possible.”

“I know, Logan.” Roman groused from his spot near the 50-yard line. “You don’t have to mention that _every_ time I come backfield. Don’t you have anything better to do? Solos to practice stealing? Fellow pit members to annoy?”

“Actually, this is the current best possible use of my time. It is the duty of every member, even the sideline, to make sure we give a consistent and correct performance. We’re only as strong…”

“As our weakest link.” Roman rolled his eyes. At the drum major’s podium, Picani made the gesture for a water break and cheers erupted across the field. Roman placed his flute and coordinate sheet carefully on the grass, then threw a dirty look towards the pit as he ran towards the water coolers.

Over by the trees, Deceit had joined Patton and Virgil in an ideal patch of grass, close to water, but still covered by the shade of the leaves. “I hope my sousaphone comes back from the shop soon,” Patton panted from the ground, “Cause I’m a lil tuba-ed out for the next month.” In response, Deceit poured half the contents of his water bottle on Patton’s khaki slacks. 

(Patton was known for his rather odd choices in marching wear, even going as far as wearing a cat onesie to the last practice of every season, which only fed the rumors about his invulnerability to the sun.)

Patton scrambled to his feet, looking more concerned than annoyed. “Deceit!” He frowned. “We can’t waste water like that—pour it on my head next time!” Deceit gave a wink and sauntered off to join the trumpets building a water bottle tower. Patton proceeded to flop back on the ground. 

Virgil glared at Deceit’s back. “I hope your day’s going better, Roman. Deceit literally won’t stop messing with me. He traded my mouthpiece out with a trombone slide!”

“Actually, Virgil, my day is probably going even worse.” Roman took a swig of water. “Logan simply will _not_ stop critiquing my every move. I have flawless marching, he says my sound doesn’t blend well enough. I play the piece perfectly, and he’s on my back about step size! You’d think Joan died and made him Band-Aid!”

Virgil hesitated. “I know it’s rich coming from me, Princey, but I think we’re all just on edge.”

“Not everyone can remove the drumstick shoved up their ass in a day!” a voice cackled. Remus sidled over, a neon green marijuana hat his school-frowned-upon flair for the day. “Sorry to cut in, I heard someone mention our dear new pit-leader Logan and just _had_ to slip my pussy finger into the conversation.”

“Why has he not gotten banned for that hat.” Roman stated flatly. He turned towards Remus. “How have you not gotten banned for that hat.” 

“I think they’re just relieved I stopped wearing my dick shirts.”

Patton clapped his hands over his ears. “Why Remus. Why.”

“I don’t know!” Remus grinned. “But, my dear Greek Prince—” 

“Stop calling me that,” Roman muttered under his breath.

“—I _do_ know that you might want to get cracking on that solo I keep hearing so much about. You’ve got some real competition this year!”

“Speak for yourself, kiddo!” Patton said from the ground. “My sousa ballad of “My Heart Will Go On” would have been _great_ for the Titanic show!” 

“Sure, Patton,” Roman responded dubiously. Remus winked.

A whistle blew from the front of the field. “Alright you guys! Let’s get back on the field and march our hearts out! And candidates for the solo: remember to head inside the band room for your audition!”

Patton leaped to his feet to link arms with Virgil. “Good luck Roman! Virge and I will be cheering for you in our hearts!”

“Wait, you two aren’t trying out?”

Vigril shrugged. “I’m already pretty busy working tech and audio. A solo would add too much on top of that.”

“And I’ve decided to focus on color-guard choreography for my senior year!” Patton joined in. “Since the old co-head of guard left, it’s double the work!”

“What did I tell ya? You have some _real_ competition this year.” Remus snickered.

“Hey.” Virgil put a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “We may not be in there to make jokes before your audition, but you’re still going to rock it.”

Roman smiled. “Thanks Virgil.” He hefted his case (hefted being a word mostly used to impress cute drum majors at competitions, as it was just a flute case) and waltzed backfield to retrieve his instrument. As he got closer, he could hear the faint strains of the opening bars of “No One is Alone,” played gently on the piano.

“I guess Mr. Perfect finally started to practice. I bet he isn’t even that good.” Roman scoffed. But, as he drew closer, he could hear the subtle improvisations woven into the piece. Logan moved his hands across the keys of the piano with his eyes closed, coaxing out melodies and resonance that should in no way be coming out of a middle-of-the-line electric piano and a shared speaker. As the last haunting note of the first solo line faded from his ear, Roman scooped up his instrument and decidedly jazz ran towards the school.

“Well. I’m fucked.”

**Author's Note:**

> will update this story as inspiration strikes!
> 
> learningthomas.tumblr.com


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